


One Night Only

by LivefromG25



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, PWP, all of the kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/pseuds/LivefromG25
Summary: Guys... I am deeply regretful about this. This is shameless.Anyway, you wanted a kink fic, have one that covers all Timmy T bases. I can't promise it makes sense because.. I know it doesnt.  This has not been beta'd. Please, please be kind.Edit: RubyIntyale, I hope this helps xxTimothee decides to make it an anniversary to remember.





	One Night Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ihighlydoubtthat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihighlydoubtthat/gifts), [aislingeach_21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingeach_21/gifts).



> I don't want to spoil it but I wish you knew the beat in my head... hopefully it still works out.

“Tim?”

 

I close the hotel room door behind me, throwing my bag in the vague vicinity of the wardrobe. The kind lady at the front desk advised that the other party had already checked in but the curtains in the room are drawn and it doesn't look like he’s still here. I clock his jacket thrown haphazardly over a chair, discarded like a paper bag. I roll my eyes as I pick it up and bring it up to my face, a soft buttery suede extension of him, his scent ingrained in the silken lining.

 

I hang it up properly, like it deserves, running my hand across the shoulders in a shadow motion of all the times I have held him the same way. Smiling to myself, I metaphorically skip to the minibar. I mean, I’m 6’5, I am not going to _literally_ skip anywhere without getting paid for it, thank you very much.

 

Pulling the door open, I reach in, downing the first miniature I can get my hands on.

 

It has been some day full of bullshit meeting after bullshit meeting and all I wanted to do was get home. I don't mean this hotel either, I mean to _him_. I scrub my hand over my face, tipping my head back, working my neck from side to side. I grab another miniature and down it just as quick.

 

A soft shuffling noise behind me has me spin on my heels.

 

“Tim? Are you here?”

 

I walk slowly towards the bedroom, praying to all that is holy that there isn't a deranged fan in my room, or a murderer, or worse like… I dunno, my mom?

 

Inching closer to the door I take a quick peek at what underwear I have on just to be sure that if this is the end of my life, I’ll at least look decent for the autopsy.

 

I push open the door, hesitantly, twisting the dimmer switch, bathing the bedroom in a soft golden hue. I can feel the grin almost pop off my face when I see him. I should have fucking known.

 

Timothee stands by the bed, looking every inch the white fuck boi. White sneakers, grey sweatpants that look at least three sizes too big for him, one leg pulled up to mid calf. I take a second to gaze at that gorgeous bare leg and skinny ankle. His legs do something to me that I can’t even explain. Whatever it is, it makes me want them over my shoulders at all times.

I drag my gaze up to the oversized grey sweatshirt, the arms concertinaed at the cuffs and further still to his Brentwood cap pulled low, low over his eyes.

 

He tips his head to one side, peering at me from under the rim.

 

“Hey.”

 

I relax against the doorframe, my legs and arms crossed.

 

“Hey yourself. What’s all this?”

 

He glances around with a shrug. I can see the pink of his tongue working between his lips as he bites his lower one, suppressing a smirk.

 

“Well, I mean… it’s our anniversary right?”

 

I nod, the familiar heat rising up my neck at the reminder. That _this_ is my real life now.

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“Right, so y’know, I thought for one night only I could maybe do a lil something special, make a bit of effort. I keep hearing this rumour about this guy you’ve been dying to meet? Thought maybe I could introduce you?”

 

I’d be surprised if they can’t sense my excitement from space. This is too much.

 

“Timmy Tim? He’s coming out of retirement? I mean, wow, what were the statistical odds of that happening-”

 

His voice brokers no argument. “ _One_ night _only_.”

 

I shut up with a smile as he motions towards the bed with a tilt of his head. Pushing myself away from the door, I cross the distance between us until I am standing squarely in front of him. He tips his head back so he can meet my gaze under the peak of his cap. I’m rendered speechless as I clock his kohl-rimmed eyes, lashes coated in heavy mascara, the green of his irises popping against the cherry flush of his cheeks.

 

My stomach knots up. He looks… flawless. I don’t know what I did to deserve being so blessed.. My boyfriend is both the sexiest guy and the prettiest fucking girl I know. He takes my hands in his own, his delicate fingers cool in my palms, pulling me closer, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.

 

His mouth is open, slack and inviting. Creamy throat exposed, begging to be touched. I lean down, licking into his mouth. He kisses me back forcefully, the vibrations of a low hum going straight to my cock.

 

As I deepen the kiss, my hands take up residence in their favourite spot. I can feel the pulse in his neck throbbing beneath my thumbs as I squeeze gently. He bites on my lower lip, pulling it towards him, his lip upturned into faux-snarl as I increase the pressure. Grabbing my wrists before I can get too carried away he pushes me away to sit down on top of the duvet.

 

“Later.”

 

He glides over to where I see his bluetooth speaker set up alongside his iphone. The muscles in my face are actually starting to hurt with the size of my smile.

 

To anyone else, this - this crazy Eminem looking white boy - would seem fucking ridiculous. But to me this is possibly one of the most romantic things he has ever done. He knows I have a jealous streak a mile wide and usually I can control myself. But sometimes? When my energy is low and my thresholds are tested? I am petty as fuck with it. I can’t always hide my green side when he talks about previous lovers, or his experimental youth or any of his life before me. I know I am irrational, I know you can’t insert yourself in someone’s history at a time point before you even met them. I wish you could. I wish I’d known him at 15, 16, 17, watching him grow into himself and into the man he is today. I can hardly reconcile the two and it _kills me_ that there is this huge - extremely talented, extremely playful - part of him that I never got - or will get - to witness.

 

Until tonight.  

 

I settle back on the bed as he presses play, I recognise the beatboxing as his own and somehow manage to grin even wider. I am touched by the amount of care and planning that has gone into this extravaganza. We glance at each other, both nodding our heads in time to the beat.

“So, um, I guess I kinda wrote this for you. It’s not, um, very polished and to be honest it probably fucking sucks but… you wanted authentic and sucking was pretty much my MO back then, excuse the pun.”

 

I laugh. “Excused.”

 

He starts to sway his body, back and forth, side to side. His arms loose, he follows the beat, moving towards me as the tempo speeds up.

 

A few quick coughs to clear his throat and he is tilting his head back, counting himself in. I almost can’t quite believe he is about to do this.  Fuck, I love this boy.

 

Echoing his beatboxing from the tape he warms up his voice before hitching the already drawn up pant leg up further. He starts circulating, his fancy footwork barely making sense to me, he looks so fluid moving gracefully around the floor.

 

_“Yo, it’s not even Thursday, but here’s a Timmy T throwback_

_Just call me Lost, the way I’m giving it flashbacks,_

_On our anniversary, I’ll gift the present of my past,_

_He better love it, or like mascara I’ll be gettin' lashed.”_

 

I huff out a laugh with a bite of my lip. He is gesticulating like I have seen him do in every one of his videos but, fuck me if it is not 100% hotter in person. I don’t know how many verses this thing has but I am pretty sure I am not going to survive it.

 

He moves towards me, his body undulating in time with the beat. He runs his fingers around the rip of his cap before continuing, speeding up with a flick of his hand.

 

_“He got me so turned on I can't even get mad,_

_He knows just how to play right into my dad-_

_-dy Kink,_

_Say it again like that, got me spiraling hard I think…”_

 

He inches forward, between my open legs, hands trailing up my inner thighs. He comes close with a whisper;

 _  
_ _“I might push it too far, til he leaves me warm and pink.”_

 

Fuck. He isn’t going to make this easy for me, I can already feel myself itching to reach out and touch him but I don’t want to break his stride, he really seems to be enjoying himself and… he is mesmerising to look at.

 

A quick swipe of his tongue across his cocky grin and he moves back again, dancing himself into a circle, playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. He beats his way back in before sliding to his knees, his hands bracketing my own.

 

 _“Imma guess that you’d like that huh, my skin heating under your touch?_  
  
_Your dick is suggesting you'd like that very much,_  
  
_Well I'm like a drive thru, taking orders and such_  
  
_And if I get it wrong, you can beat me hard as fuck”_

 

He stands, grabbing his own cock through his trousers, at eye level.

 

_“I'm hard as fuck”_

 

His smirks before turning away from me. I am not entirely sure what expression i am pulling but I have a feeling i potentially look like a stroke victim. I can’t feel my face.

 

 _“Look at me, losing my mind, that's what._  
  
_Timmy T, spitting rhymes just to get him hot_  
  
_Is it necessary? I already know it's not,_  
  
_He was ready from the moment I said “Don't let us get caught”.”_

 

He pushes his hand down his trousers, cupping his own dick, his forearm dragging the fabric of his sweats off his hip bone. As he sways from side to side I catch flashes of what looks like fucking _lingerie_ underneath _._ No. He did _no_ t fucking do this to me…

 

 _“Just like our time in Cali, surrounded by all those women_  
_  
_ _We were the only ones who knew that his Palms were Springin”_

 

He reaches forward grabbing hold of my wrists, bringing my hands up to his neck.

  
_“Hands on my throat til my ears were ringing,_  
  
_Picked me up like a call, nine one one, I’m all over stinging.”_

 

He drops a kiss on each hand before twirling away from me again, skipping towards the wall like a martial artist preparing for the next bout. He twists his cap backwards with a soft smile in my direction, his body movements never missing a single beat.

  
_“I wanted to know him Social, get into his Network,_

_Didn’t know that our kissin’ would triple our net worth,_

_He has me flyin’ so high, ‘S hard to come back down to earth-”_

 

He pauses, before timing his movements as he lifts his sweatshirt over his head.

 

_“So I let him tie me and bind me, shibari til it hurts.”_

 

Holy fuck. Remember I said that I didn’t think I was going to survive this? I was just proven right. Underneath that baggy shapeless grey sweatshirt he is a vision in eyelash lace. Sweatpants riding low on his waist, the body suit he is wearing is cut high over his hip bones, leaving them naked, the pale flesh an erotic contrast to the intricate midnight fabric.

 

I am instantly hard. And that is before I raise my eyes - taking in every visible inch of skin, wanting to lick my way across the gaps in the lace, watching his nipples peak as the fabric pulls over them, I know how sensitive he is and how this must be killing him by degrees.

 

He removes his cap, his hand automatically messing through his curls and i am at a loss for words, again, as my eyes are drawn to his limbs. His arms are an artform of intricately woven ropes, criss crossing up and over from his delicate wrists to his bony shoulders. He is ready for binding and I am not even sure how he did that to himself, only that I know I am fucking impressed. And, did I mention, hard?

 

The tempo of the beatboxing slows and I pray this means he is coming to an end before I come all over myself like a schoolboy. This is more than I ever could have asked him for.

 

His movements take on a more seductive vibe as he starts sliding towards me again, hips rolling with ease,

 

_“Four years on, an’ i don’t deserve this luck”_

 

He turns in between my legs, the loose strands of rope brushing against my chest as he lowers his ass into my groin. His bodysuit is backless. I trail kisses up his spine as he descends, loving the feel of his fingertips gripping my knees for support.

 

_“There I was thinking he was just down to fuck,_

_Like a straw in a pepsi bottle, gave it a good suck”_

 

He grinds into me and I know he can feel how super hard I am, how much I might actually explode. He tips his head back, resting against my shoulder, groaning as the words leave his mouth. I trail my fingers along the lacy edge of the garment that I can’t wait to rip off him.

 

_“Caffeine high, I still just can’t get enough…”_

 

He gets up on a twist before dropping to his knees, his mouth tantalizingly close to my cock. He bodyrolls his way up my torso before bringing a knee either side of my hips, one at a time. Bringing his face closer, he licks gently at my bottom lip.  

 

_“It’s never enough.”_

 

He takes my hand, and as the musical beat comes to an end, he presses it to his groin.

 

_“And I’m still hard as fuck.”_

 

We sit in silence for a second or two, both of us panting for entirely different reasons. Or maybe partly the same, I don’t know. This was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed and I don’t quite know how to string the words together to tell him so. I think I might have just ended up growling in his general direction in between bites along the exposed skin of his arms.

 

He rocks his hips into me, his hand still grasping my own around his cock. I look down and see the tell tale wet patch on his bottoms; he is leaking already and all I want to do is mouth him through the cotton.

 

“Baby…”

 

I try to speak again but am unable to form coherent sentences, all the blood in my body is currently in my lap. I need to get control of this situation again and fast. My mind is reeling… i think I am still stuck on his Palm Springs reminder. Fuck me.

 

I grab hold of him by the hips and move to flip him onto his back on the bed.

 

“No! No, Armie, wait! Don’t throw me!”

 

I pause, confused by the panic in his voice. He starts to laugh shakily as he stands up off my lap, kicking his trainers off.

 

“I, umm, I came prepared?”

 

Frowning, I watch as he hooks his thumbs into his waistband, pulling his trousers down only just enough to release the head of his cock, trapped tight in a lace prison against his concave stomach, beads of pre-come a delicate appliqué.

 

Reaching forward I drag him close to me, a giggle sailing over my head as his hands push their way into my hair. I stroke my way from those beautiful hipbones down the edges of his bodysuit, the eyelash edging tickling my fingertips, before hooking in at the hollow of his groin, meeting in the middle along his shaft. He moans softly as I send my hands on their return journey north, my tongue darting forward to lick the beads of come off his tip.

 

He uses his hands to push me backwards, his face slackened with arousal. I can no longer see the green of his irises, his beautiful kohl eyes a sea of black.

 

Stepping out of his trousers he moves to the bed beside me, crawling onto all fours. Before I can maneuver to look at him properly he rests one hand against my turned cheek. His eyes search mine.

 

“Now you’ve had all of me. It’s my turn.”.

 

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before artfully arranging himself on the bed, arms folded under his head, offering himself up to me, his spray of curls a brunette halo.

 

I can see what he meant - he wasn’t joking when he said he was prepared

 

“Holy mother of fuck. Timothee”.

 

I stand and look at him in all of his glory. His beautiful long legs, gracefully supporting him, miles of creamy porcelain leading up to the most perfect ass I have ever seen in my entire life. I don’t know how he gets so smooth but he is completely hairless, vast expanse of skin just begging to be licked and sucked and teased. My palm is indeed springing at the thought of it.

 

But that isn't all. The lace body suit cups his balls in the most erotic fashion before forming a light plait-work, almost rope like, seam up his ass. The fabric stretches out again along his lower back before giving way to a clear, flawless torso.

 

The final nail in the coffin rests right at his centre; the emerald sparkle of a jewelled plug glints at me in the soft lighting.

 

I quickly rid myself of my clothes faster than I probably ever have before and take the lace at the base of his spine in between my fingers as I kneel up onto the bed. The rocking motion elicits another moan from Timothée, the plug shifting inside of him as I rip right through the fabric with ease, pulling it apart to a chorus of whimpers as his cock is finally released, the lace rubbing over the sensitive head.

 

I position myself behind him, my hands smoothing over the curves of his ass, running a finger down his seam, moving in rings around the plug. I had bought him this in Cali because it matched his eyes. They were almost about the same size too when I brought it out of the box it came in. He was at once both terrified and insatiably curious. A winning combination for me.

 

Since then our sex life has been far from vanilla. There isn’t really anything we haven’t tried and I doubt there would be anything he would say no to. His desire to experience everything he can in life and my desire to ruin him for any other person goes pretty damn well together.

 

But the majority of the time, when we have had busy weeks or we find ourselves randomly turned on on a Tuesday afternoon, it is like this. Him submitting to me so beautifully, letting me take from him what I need. Usually, luckily for him, all I need is to watch him break apart under my touch.

 

Timothee wriggles his hips impatiently in my direction, snapping me out of my reverie. I lean forward and bite his ass cheek, hard. He jolts forward with a cry, made worse by the stretch of the plug.

 

“That’s what you get for being a brat, Timothee. Patience is a virtue”.

 

I hear a soft giggle as he buries his head in his arms and I lean into him, my tongue tracing the edges of the plug. His giggles turn to moans as he canters back, wanting to impale himself.

 

Moving down further, my tongue putting pressure on his taint, I reach forward through the torn lace and take his cock in my hand. I work him slowly, coating himself in his own fluid as he fucks himself into my fist, setting his own pace.

 

My tongue continues to worship the beautiful smoothness of him before I lick and bite my way back to the plug. I stop my ministrations on his cock and slowly start to remove the gemstone from its crevice, my own cock twitching at every moan and groan and _fuck_ that he utters.

 

Once it is out, he sags forward slightly in relief, but I waste no time pulling his hips back directly onto my tongue. I caress his slackened, tender hole with little kitten licks, marvelling at how well he not only semi-bound himself but also worked himself so open. He is totally ready for me. I spread his cheeks wide as I continue my assault, spurred on by his needy begging, my fingers gripping his hips, my thumbs keeping him open as I lap at him.

 

His balls tighten under my chin. Pulling away, I kneel up and push two fingers into him, causing him to cry out. My right hand grabs at the loose ends of the ropes entwined around his arms. He curses me, his head grinding from one side to the other. I pull sharply on the ties and his arms are suddenly behind him, his entire upper body suspended parallel. He drops his head forward, sweat soaked curls dripping onto the bed.

 

I give it another hard tug and he is upright his back against my chest, my fingers still deep within him and he groans loudly at the change of angle, half cursing me for doing this to him and half cursing himself for wanting more.

 

Biting down gently on his neck I work my fingers in and out of him, coating them in the lube he had already used on himself. He pants and squirms in my grip before I remove my fingers and make quick work of plaiting the slack rope around his arms, tying them together rendering his upper body useless. Forcing him back down onto the bed, I grip  his hips and pull his perfect, beautiful ass into my groin where it fucking belongs. I palm his cheeks, kneading them between my fingers, marvelling at how my entire hand can cover each one. I spread them, opening him wide, my own saliva a glistening treasure trail to where my cock is longing to be buried.

 

“You ready for me, baby?”

 

He murmurs into the mattress and earns himself a short, sharp slap on his ass. He cries out as I grip where my palm made contact, the heat pulsing through my touch.

 

“Louder, please”

 

He struggles to raise his head without the use of his hands, backing himself into me with a giggle.

 

“I said yes sir, I’ve been ready for _time,_ just fucking _do it_ already”.

 

I growl softly as he rests his cheek on the bed, looking back at me with a sly smirk on that smart little mouth of his. Despite all of our games, despite the inherent D/s nature of our relationship and despite my constant valiant attempts, I secretly love that he is impossible to top. Even like this, covered in ripped lace, arms bound behind him in a spiderweb of intricate design, thighs shaking with want, pre-come pooling on the mattress beneath him as his cock demands some attention, curls already looking just-fucked, a picture of wanton almost feminine abandon, he _still_ won’t let go of his own control. He knows what he is doing, he knows how much I want him and how, since the beginning, he’s been the one with the upper hand in this. I’m happy to be his puppet.

 

I quickly spit into my palm and work it around my cock; makeshift lube so I don’t have to move from this perfect vantage point. I could almost make myself come that is how close I am. I stroke the head around his entrance, dipping it slightly before pulling back, running it down his seam, around his balls, back up. He thrusts back at me impatiently, his fingers piano-playing in the binds as he tries to move in a way that will force me in. I love when he’s this desperate.

 

Finally, when I think I have teased us both enough, I line myself up and push into him. He meets me on a backward thrust with a low, relieved moan as I bottom out. I pause, once again taking in the sight of this literal angel beneath me. I am so fucking lucky.

 

I piston my hips in and out steadily, he already feels fully fucked, there is barely resistance although he is beautifully tight and warm around me. He prepared himself well and I am almost overcome at how much effort he put into this for me. I grab hold of the binds and pull him up off the bed, changing the angle as I increase my thrusts.

 

“ _Fuck, Armie, I-, fuck, please..”_

 

Were both up on our knees again and I reach around him, taking hold of his weeping, hard, needy cock and work it in time with my hips; an extension of my own as I drive into him over and over, knowing by the angle and his cursing chants that I am hitting his prostate time and time again.

 

_“...I’m so close baby.... D’you know how fucking beautiful you are?....”_

 

Words continue to fall out of my mouth as we race each other towards the sweetest death. My vision is blurring and all I can see is a map of lines across his limbs, each one proof of just how much this boy loves me.

 

I come on a cry of his name, spurting hot and white into him as he follows suit, covering my hand and his chest, panting my name out like a prayer. His body pulses around my cock, dragging every drop of my orgasm out of me. I continue to work him with my hand until his gasping turns to desperate sobs when pleasure becomes too sensitive.

 

We both crash forward on the bed and I carefully move to the side so as not to crush him. He turns beneath me, his lips seeking out my own and we kiss lazily, his tongue exploring my mouth, filling it with breathless giggles.

 

I run a hand through his hair, pushing his curls off his forehead, sweat plastering them back. The green of his eyes sparkles under the smudged make up. He has never looked more beautiful.

 

“Thank you for this”, I whisper as he kisses me again. He shrugs, nonchalantly, as if it was nothing. But he knows how much this meant to me and just what he has given. It’s enough to make me feel inferior about the present I have waiting for him.

 

I picture the silver band with the internal emerald inlay, nestled in a little black box in the inside pocket of my bag.

 

Hmm, make that _almost_ enough. His past for my future suddenly seems like a pretty decent trade.

  



End file.
